


Five Times Arthur Fainted

by beetle



Category: Inception
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Post-Inception
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "IDC the reason, I just really really need Arthur fainting into Eames's arms please."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Arthur Fainted

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: For shits and giggles, and nothing else.  
> Warning: Mention of Mpreg.

1

  
  
“Hang on, darling, just—hang on. You’re gonna be fine,” Eames says in a breathy rush, tearing a piece of Arthur’s once-fine shirt to quell the blood pouring from Arthur’s side.  
  
Despite the warmth of Eames’s arms, Arthur’s entire body is colder than he can ever remember it being.  
  
He looks up into Eames’s desperate face, his eyes drawn by that mouth. . . .  
  
“Kiss me,” he breathes, blood bubbling out of his own mouth.  
  
Eames looks shocked. “Arthur—?“  
  
“Just shut up and  _kiss me_  before I die!” Arthur coughs.  
  
Darkness takes him just as Eames’s warm lips brush his own.  
  


2

  
  
Arthur slowly opens his eyes to a spinning room and Eames hovering over him, looking concerned.  
  
"I don't . . . what happened?"  
  
"You fainted."  
  
Arthur sits up fast then groans, clutching at his bad side. "I don't faint, Eames."  
  
"All evidence to the contrary, my sweet." Eames sighs. "Do you think it may have something to do with the fact that you're bloody exhausted?”  
  
Arthur huffs. “I’m not . . .  _exhausted_.”  
  
“Then perhaps you’re pregnant.”  
  
Arthur rolls his eyes at Eames, groaning when the room lurches. “Asshole. Quit fucking around and help me up.”  
  
Sighing again Eames takes Arthur’s hand and pulls him up.  
  
  


3

  
  
Eames’s cock presses against Arthur’s prostate for what feels like the thousandth time, his thrusts keeping time with his hand on Arthur’s cock.  
  
It’s fucking  _perfect_.  
  
With Eames, it always is.  
  
“Tell me you like this, darling . . . tell me you  _love it_ ,” Eames pants, really putting his back into it. He’s not a screamer or a moaner, he’s a talker, something that surprisingly doesn’t bother Arthur.  
  
“Love it. Love  _you_ , I—oh,  _fuck_ —“  
  
Arthur comes in a bright flash of pleasure that lasts eternities, before the world goes dark.  
  
He wakes in the morning, still in Eames’s arms.  
  


4

  
  
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t look so tired all the time if I didn’t have to chase after you making sure that you’re doing what you’re  _supposed_  to do!” Arthur bites out.  
  
Eames sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Darling, I did what I  _had_  to do to salvage the job. You  _must_  learn to trust that I’m competent enough to improvise when necessary.”  
  
“And  _you_  have to recognize that . . . that . . . I . . . fuck, catch me, Eames?” Arthur breathes, just before he sags forward. The last thing he feels before dizzy darkness swallows him whole is Eames’s strong arms around him.  
  


5

  
  
Arthur can feel Eames’s worried eyes on him.  
  
“Will you quit pacing, love?”  
  
“Can’t,” Arthur mutters, and keeps pacing. “I just can’t believe it’s taking this long to—“  
  
Just then, Dr. Auerbach comes into the exam room, looking gobsmacked. His eyes tick from Arthur to Eames then back to Arthur.  
  
“So,” he says, and: “Well, we know what’s wrong with you, I—I’m trying to find a way to prepare you, Mr. Messner—“  
  
“Just—bottom-line it for me, Doc: what’ve I got.”  
  
Auerbach consults Arthur’s chart. “Twins, from the looks of it.”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
Eames's startled, screechy voice follows Arthur down into blessed darkness.


End file.
